


Last One is on the House

by Gedry



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: 12 Step Programs, Addiction, Adulthood, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, M/M, Reconciliation, Recovery, Slow Burn, Weddings, more tags to be added as this develops
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-29
Updated: 2018-02-21
Packaged: 2019-03-11 03:14:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 13,792
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13515480
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gedry/pseuds/Gedry
Summary: 20 years later Billy and Steve tumble back into each others lives.  They both have histories to deal with and current problems to overcome.  Can they be better together than they are apart?





	1. Chapter 1

_Last One is on the House_

 

Steve’s got to hand it to Dustin. The kid’s got staying power. Not that they’re kids anymore. Nowhere near it. 

 

Steve’s checking his hair in the hotel mirror one more time, grinning a little lopsided about the amount of grey he has. 2006. “I remember when I thought forty was old,” he sighs as he smooths down his suit. 

 

“It still is,” Dustin chuckles as he nudges Steve from behind after straightening his jacket. 

 

“Fuck off,” Steve laughs as he tries to kick the other man in the shin. “Most of this grey is your fault.”

 

“You love me,” Dustin replies before heaving in a huge breath. His hands are shaking. 

 

“I do,” Steve nods before pulling Dustin into a big hug. 

 

“That’s my line,” Dustin murmurs into his neck. “Now we got to go. Max will fucking kill me if she beats me to the altar.”

 

Steve shoves Dustin off and throws open the door to the room. “Let’s go get you married. There’s no fucking way I’m pissing Max off today of all days.”

 

The rest of the afternoon is honestly kind of a blur. Steve remembers handing over the rings, doing all the parts he’s supposed to do, and handing Dustin tissues when he starts to cry. Max looks radiant. The ceremony is beautiful. Steve’s only slightly thrown off by Billy walking Max down the aisle. 

 

He hasn’t seen Billy Fucking Hargrove since that asshole drove the camaro out of town after graduation like the whole fucking place was burning to the ground. Last he had heard from the dipshits Billy was working hard to kill himself in some trashed back alley with a needle full of dope in his arm. 

 

He sure doesn’t look that way today though. He’s clean and dressed to the nines. His hair shorter but still curly and the Gods have been kind to Billy in a way they have not been to Steve. He’s still blonde. Tan. Handsome. Jesus, Steve needs to get his shit together. He and Billy have always been like two cats fighting in a bag. He’s too old to start thinking of the guy that nearly beat him to death twenty years ago as hot.

 

But he is….. _hot_.

 

Jesus, he needs to get laid. Steve’s been on what Dustin, with all of his brotherly knowledge and support, has described as a life long dry spell. The reality is, and Steve’s done a lot of work on himself to get to this point, he’s just not that interested in having relationships with people he has to lie to about pretty much everything. 

 

_Why are you so close to your friends?_

_You and Dustin aren’t really related, right?_

_Where did you get those scars?_

_Why do you have so many nightmares?_

_You just won’t let me in…._

 

Because telling people his little ragtag family has bonded over fighting evil and the end of the world as they know it isn’t really an option. Steve spent most of his early twenties falling into bed with every girl that looked at him for half a second and never brought any of them home. Then he spent the second half of his twenties figuring out that boys were an option too. But really, Steve got tired of sleeping around. He got tired of lying. He got tired of being on dates and thinking he would have had more fun sitting at home playing a video game with Dustin. So he just...stopped. 

 

And he’s good with that. He’s happy for the most part. Though since Dustin finally made his move on Max and left for California it’s been lonely at home again. But then, Steve grew up mostly alone. 

 

He’s leaned up against the wall at the reception watching the crowd. His speech over, rings given, responsibilities done. They make a beautiful couple, Max and Dustin spinning around the dance floor. He misses Lucas, but Steve understands it’s probably a little weird, even for their group, to show up at your ex-wife’s marriage to one of your best friends. They’ll see each other next weekend. Steve’s keeping Max’ and Lucas’s daughter until next Monday and then they’ll trade. She’s like a mini-general trying to order everyone around, just like both her parents. Dustin’s totally in love with her and it’s easy to see why as Steve watches her barking orders at the catering staff while Joyce and Hopper try to lead her away, their fingers linked together, smile lines around their mouths.

 

E-J and Mike are busy chasing their own kids around the buffet table. Mike looks somewhat scandalized and E-J is laughing. Steve smiles every time he hears her do that. Something beautiful about joy being born from so much adversity. Will, sweet almost always sickly, Will is currently spinning his youngest niece in a big circle on the dance floor. His boyfriend looking on indulgently. Steve’s so happy Will found someone. He remembers a horrible weekend almost ten years ago now where Will had drunkenly kissed him and whispered to Steve about his high school crush, his years of hoping and pining. Steve had tried to let him down gently. It had hurt his heart so much to push him away. But these kids, and some part of Steve will forever see them as children, are his family and romance just isn’t worth getting in the way of that. 

 

The room is suddenly too small, Steve’s head hurts, or maybe it’s his heart. He doesn’t know. He’s used to the tingling feeling of an oncoming panic attack. Knows that if he gets some space, some distance now he has a chance of derailing it before it comes full force. He waves off a worried Nancy and Jonathan as he makes for the door. Such good friends to him, always worried about his well being. It’s stifling and not what he needs. 

 

The night air is crisp, cool even, without his jacket. Steve puts his arms around himself and wanders down to the edge of lake on the rented property. He heaves a few breaths and plops down in the grass on his back to stare up at the stars. The itching tension at the sides of his eyes slowly slipping away. It’s quiet, peaceful even. For maybe ten minutes.

 

“You okay?” Comes a gruff, tension filled voice off to his left. 

 

“Billy?” Steve asks. He’s pretty sure it’s Hargrove. But he hasn’t heard Billy speak in almost twenty years. Steve figures he ought to make sure.

 

“Yeah,” Billy states as he slides into Steve’s field of vision and then gives him a hand up onto his feet. “Whatcha doing out here, Harrington? The party’s inside.”

 

“Needed some air.”

 

“Me too,” Billy exhales slowly. He shifts his feet like he’s uncomfortable. Steve is too. The silence stretches between them. It’s utterly uncomfortable. 

 

“Harrington,” Billy starts. Steve’s eyes snap to the other man’s face. Billy takes another breath, steps forward looking agitated. Steve takes a step back put his hands up, palms up to ward him off. It’s a mistake. He sees the moment Billy’s eyes harden. 

 

“What?” Billy snaps. “Worried I’m going to kick your ass again.”

 

And maybe it’s seeing everyone else going on with their lives. Maybe it’s the last two weekends he’s been helping Dustin packup the last of his things. Maybe it’s his dad dying three months ago. Steve’s not sure. All he knows is when Billy steps closer and points into his face Steve snaps. “Fuck off! Jesus Christ, Hargrove. Get out of my face. I don’t know what the fuck your problem has always been with me. I don’t fucking care. I never did a goddamn thing to you. Just get the fuck away from me and leave me the fuck alone.”

 

He turns to leave, to head back to the party, to go to his hotel room. He doesn’t fucking know. Billy grabs his wrist. “Don’t leave!” Billy orders. Steve’s not listening. He turns, grabs a hold of Billy’s jacket, and shoves as hard as he can, watching as Billy wavers, then stumbles and falls backward into the lake. Steve waits long enough to make sure Billy comes up splashing and and sputtering. 

 

The asshole can swim. That’s all Steve cares about. He’s not going to accidentally kill Max’s brother on her wedding night. He turns and stomps off toward the party. Maybe, if he’s lucky, it will be another twenty years until he has to see Billy _Fucking_ Hargrove again. 

 

******

 

“Hi,” He says as he takes the microphone. His hands are shaking. He’s nervous. “My name is Billy Hargrove and I’m a recovery addict and alcoholic.” He appreciates the claps, it gives him a chance to wipe the sweat off his forehead. 

 

“I’ve been sober for eight years now. And I’m nervous. Um, so, thank you for being here. This is my anniversary celebration. Um, most of you know me by now. This is my homegroup and if you’re new here tonight it’s a really strong one. I wanted to tell my story for two reasons, first, to help and support other addicts who are here struggling. I’ll get the second part later. Anyway,” Billy wanders around the floor near his seat, being still has never been his strong suit. “I grew up with a really abusive father. My mom died when I was younger and after she was gone my dad started drinking and I don’t think I realized he was an alcoholic until I got sober eight years ago. That’s a really long time but it’s true. He went to work every day, had this thing about respect and chores, and timeliness. And I was a hot mess of a kid. I hated authority, had a hard time paying attention in school, and after my mom was gone I was so angry all the time. It was really bad combination. It’s taken me years to really believe that all the things he did to me weren’t my fault. For a long time I struggled to put my life back together thinking I didn’t deserve to be happy or to have nice things. He used to tell me my mom died because of me. That it was all my fault. Over the years he punched me, choked me, cut me with glass and kitchen knives, he burned me with cigarettes, and put me into the hospital twice. He broke my arm and then my foot twice.”

 

He’s realised he’s wrapped himself up in the microphone cord. Has to stop and untwist himself. Jesus, he’s five minutes into this and he’s a mess already. “Anyway, I’m gay. It was a huge problem for my dad, one of the times I was in the hospital was after he found me blowing a guy I was dating. He called me terrible names and told me I was worthless. My head was really messed up. We moved to this shithole town in Indiana when I was in highschool to avoid questions from CPS about my hospital stay. He said it was all my fault. I blew out of that town right after graduation. Never looked back. Never saw my dad again. He died when I was 28. I was high as fuck for days. It was the first time I overdosed. Note I said first time. That will come up again later. I went back to California. Thought I would get a job, have a great life, be happy. Like I left all my problems in Indiana.” He takes a breath. Can’t help but smile at how stupid he was. “I was a moron.” The crowd chuckles. 

 

“I ended up strung out. Sleeping on couches and couldn’t find a job. I started dealing for money so I could get a place to sleep but I ended up using too much of the merchandise. I started shooting up when I was twenty five. I was drunk all the time, couldn’t hold a job, and homeless. I hustled, flat out robbed people, and sucked a lot of dick to pay for my habit. A lot of dick. I ended up overdosing three times. The first time was when my father died, the second was after my boyfriend at the time shot himself, the last time was nine years ago. I had been in and out a rehab a few times but nothing stuck for long. I had seven month once, right before I OD’ed the last time. I’ve hurt people, stolen things, gone to jail for a little over two years. My addiction ate my life. It took everything from me and the truth is I didn’t think I deserved anything good in my life. I thought I was a waste of space and that dying would be better than living. I’ve had HEP C for a long time and I’ve had almost every STD you could name. I’m not HIV positive, but I get tested once a year just to make sure. I’ve lost so many friends to that disease and I have a lot of guilt about being healthy when I made so many terrible choices. I guess life’s not fair. I mean, I know that. But it’s something I really struggle with when my head’s not in a good place.”

 

He trips over the microphone cord as he looks up and shouts “Fuck!” The room bursts out laughing. Billy chuckles. “Jesus, I need a lot of help to keep my shit together. Thanks for hanging in here with me. The last time I overdosed my sister flew out to california and handed me my ass. She told me she loved me, she forgave me for constantly being a fucked up piece of shit, for stealing from her and her husband, for never being there for her. She asked me to try to get my shit together. My sister is amazing I’m really proud of her and my amazing little niece. You know I got to hold her the day she was born? I did. I got to come to the hospital and everything. I was so nervous and so fucking worried. But she was perfect and she calls me Uncle B. And she’s never met fucked up me. Which gives me a reason to keep fighting when I fuck things up now. Which, still happens...a lot. I went into rehab and I stayed that time. Six months in house and I hated most of it, hated being sober, hated having feelings. I’m still not all that great with those. but I hung in there and I got out and started going to meetings and outpatient groups. I have an awesome sponsor who scares the shit out of me. He’s a huge help. And basically I just take it one day at a time. Sometimes, just one minute at a time.”

 

Billy pauses again. The room breaks out in applause. He nods along before raising the microphone back to his lips “So, I said I had two things. Here’s the second. I’ve been working my stepwork really hard for years. The one I’ve always struggled with is Step 9. Trying to make amends to the people I have hurt is a a huge pain in the ass. But I’ve been working through it. My sister and I have worked out our shit, I’ve addressed the few other people I have in my life that are close to me. To be honest I didn’t have many friends. Not ever. And remember back at the beginning when I told you I was angry all the time? Well, back when I was seventeen there was _this guy._ That’s how all the good stories start right? Anyway, we had just moved to Indiana and fuck, my ribs were still sore from where my dad broke them putting me in the hospital. And there he is, and _this guy_ was hot as hell and everything I hated, rich, happy, with tons of friends. I just wanted to choke him. Or fuck him. I was really confused by him honestly. I’m going to save you the details but let me be clear… _this guy?_ He was a good guy. Like an honest to God, good human being. And I ended up hurting him really badly. I threatened a kid and _the guy_ and I got into a fight and I beat him so bad I’m not sure I would have stopped before I killed him before my sister stepped in. It’s one of the things I regret the most in my life. It felt like I touched some kind of mythical being and ripped off its wings. I know that sounds so stupid but I didn’t have many good guys in my lifetime and it just drove home to me how much a shithole I was.”

 

He’s a little horrified to feel himself tearing up. “It’s hard to explain but we ended up fighting through some serious shit on the same team before I left. And I got to watch him from a distance and while I was watching I realised that if anyone was ever going to help me in my life, it would have been _the guy._ If anyone was going to take up for me, to be a real friend to me, to maybe even believe in me, it would have been that guy. And I fucked it all up before I even had a chance. I’ve never gotten over that and even though we had that fight before I really started using I have always felt like he’s the one person I should get right with in my life. The one, other than my sister, that truly deserves an apology. I just never worked up the nerve.”

 

“So, my sister got married last year. And it’s really awesome because the guy she married has loved her since like middle school and he’s a really good kid. I got to walk her down the aisle. It was like the best fucking night of my life outside of when my niece was born. And _THE GUY_ was there because he’s her husband’s like best fucking friend. They call each other brothers. So I’m trying to decide what to do about _THE GUY._ I’m terrified of speaking to him because, shit, I haven’t said anything to him in forever, though, now that I think about it I might have drunk dialed him when I was twenty two or something. But, I suck at this feelings shit and I finally end up just leaving the party because I’m so freaked out about what to do. I’m down by the lake running my options and all of a sudden there he is. And looking back on it, because believe me, I’ve had the time, I should have known it was a bad time. He was clearly not in a good place, but I’m dumb as fuck. So I go over, and basically make a huge ass of myself. I was so nervous and I was pacing and I get it now, he had to think I was going to hurt him. But at the time, I was so caught up in how well I was doing and forgot that he didn’t know shit about that. So I scared him. And then I got offended and threatened him, kinda. If you have anger management issues you get what I mean. Sometimes it just happens by accident. Which does _not_ make it ok. And he goes to leave and I grabbed him because I was scared I wasn’t going to get another chance. And he shoved me into the lake.”

 

Billy kinda shrugs. The room busts out into laughter. He can’t blame him. It’s pretty funny. “So, I went out to my car, soaking wet, and spent the rest of the night on the phone with my sponsor because I was a hot mess. It was like running into my old self. And it sucked. A lot. I was so ashamed of myself. It’s almost two years later, my sister is pregnant and their having this huge baby shower thing this weekend. So, I didn’t think much about it because it’s a baby shower and I kinda thought it was a girl thing. Hell if I know. But no, it’s coed. And _THE GUY_ is going to be there. and I’m going to be there because my sister would have my balls as a chew toy for the new kid if I missed it and I don’t know what the fuck to do. I can’t avoid him and talking to him freaks me out. I’m like a mumbling, stumbling idiot. But I need to say it. I need him to hear it even if he still hates me, even if he won’t forgive me. I want to tell him I’m sorry I hurt him. That he didn’t deserve all the things I did to him. That I was scared and lonely and hurting and I lashed out. I want him to know it wasn’t anything he did. I want to tell him I was so angry I was hurting so badly that I lashed out at everything good in my life and I didn’t realize until it was too late that _he_ could have been something good in my life. I just...I want him to understand. And it’s so stupid, you know? It’s stupid to be pining over someone who I barely spoke to in high school. But If I’m being honest, like that down deep stone cold honesty that we don’t like to admit...he’s like the one that got away for me. I wonder about him. I ask my sister how he is. Sometimes, when I turn my head fast it’s like he’s there, out of the corner of my eye. And that sounds super creepy, I’m sorry. I don’t mean it that way. Fuck. Shit. I may never work up the nerve to say it to his face. I don’t want to end up in the lake again. But just so it’s out there in the world...I’m sorry, Steve.”

 

There’s a long moment of silence. It feels solemn, peaceful. He sighs. “Thank you all for listening to my story. Recovery is possible, sobriety is possible, healing is possible. I have to believe these things because they have worked for me. Find a Higher Power to support and enrich you, be kind to yourself, be honest with your support system, we are only as sick as our secrets. And a special thank you to my sister and her husband who came tonight to help me celebrate and I wouldn’t be here without her. Where are you, Max? Stand up you guys.”

 

Billy scans the crowd and his face lights up when he sees Dustin jump to his feet and help Max struggle to her feet. She’s very pregnant. He’s walking over for a hug when he stumbles to a stop. Another figure jumping up and helping Max stand. “Steve…” he croaks out when everything comes into focus. The room around them gasps. Stupid fucking microphone. Everyone turns to look at them. Steve looking a little wild eyed and ready to run. Billy frozen to the spot. 

 

Steve comes toward him, slow measured steps to where Billy feels glued to the floor, microphone halfway to his face. He jerks when Steve takes a hold of it and his hand, dragging it up between them toward their mouths. “Apology accepted.” Steve announces. 

 

The room erupts in cheers. Billy is dimly aware of the microphone falling out of his hand as he he chokes and starts crying. Steve pulls him in close and holds him as Billy murmurs, “I’m sorry, so sorry. I’m sorry,” against his neck. They stand there for a long time in each others arms.


	2. Part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Seeing each other from a distance has complications and benefits.

_Last One is on the House Part 2_

 

They get dinner at a diner down the street after the meeting. Steve watches Billy get ready to go, notices the number of people who speak to him, smiles at the juxtaposition of Steve’s memory and this current being who seems so different. Billy looks open, honest, and to Steve’s surprise the other man knows everyone's name, offers encouragement and suggestions, accepts hugs even and Steve clearly remembers how little Billy Hargrove liked to be touched. 

 

But that was a hell of a long time ago. 

 

He hovers near the door with Max and Dustin. Several people leaving stop to thank him for being there, for forgiving Billy. Some of them have tears in their eyes and Steve wonders how many of them will never get a chance for forgiveness due to their circumstances. The thought shakes him. Makes him terribly sad. “Steve?” Billy’s voice suddenly right there. Steve jumps, not expecting him. He watches as Billy’s face closes up, his shoulders tense, and he takes a slow step back. 

 

“Hi,” Steve offers lamely. He’s not sure what to do here. Billy turns his eyes to Max and his smile returns, he offers his sister his arm and they shuffle out the door and down the block. Dustin walking behind with Steve telling him how amazing the burgers are. Steve’s honestly so shaken right now he’s not sure he can eat anything. 

 

There’s only one table open. A partial booth with a bench seat against the wall and two chairs facing it on the other side. Steve hesitates at the seating. When he stops Dustin nudges him with his shoulder “Max can’t fit on the booth side. We’ll take the chairs.” And yeah, that makes sense. But it still doesn’t answer whether he or Billy is sliding into the booth first. “That’s fine,” Steve assures him making a decision to go with honesty even if it does blow up in his face. “I can’t sit with my back to the room anyway without getting nervous.”

 

Max sits down, Dustin follows, Steve turns to Billy to ask him seating preferences and before he can open his mouth Billy blushes a bright red across his cheeks and says “I need you to slide in first. I’m deaf in my left ear so if you sit on that side I’ll have to stare at you the whole time or I’ll miss what you say.” 

 

Steve’s sliding into the booth when Max announces “Like you’re not going to stare at him the whole time anyway.” To his surprise, Billy laughs. 

 

“Maybe,” the other man answers with a roll of his shoulders that’s not really a shrug. And Steve wonders for the first time if maybe he’s been set up on a blind date. “He’s cute.”

 

Max beams, Dustin chuckles into the menu he’s holding up in front of his face. Oh yeah, totally a blind date. Asshole kids. 

 

Billy’s a warm presence up against Steve’s side and it’s comforting. Crowds have never been his thing and this place is packed. “How did you lose your hearing?” He asks looking for something to talk about. He just has no idea where to start. “My dad,” Billy says without looking up from the menu. “Bashed me in the head too many times. It was already going before we graduated. I lost it for good in jail. Had a guy hit me in the head with a plate and it was just...gone.”

 

“Yeah,” Steve nods, “getting hit in the head with a plate sucks.” And as soon as it leaves his mouth he realizes what he said. He reaches out on impulse to wrap his hand around Billy’s forearm. Doesn’t want him to leave, didn’t mean to hurt him. There’s a pause and from the way Dustin’s eyes are bugging out of his head Steve can only imagine how badly he’s fucked this whole thing up. 

 

Billy turns to look at him, eyes searching Steve’s face for long moment before he slides his hand on top of Steve’s and squeezes. “You want a burger or breakfast?” he asks and Steve doesn’t let go of his arm and Billy doesn’t let go of his hand until their food comes. 

 

The burger was amazing. The company even more so. 

 

Steve crams himself into his seat on the airplane two days later reveling in the sense of anticipation he has about getting to know more about Billy. It’s the first thing he’s been excited about in a really long time. 

 

*****

 

The phone ringing wakes Billy out of a dead sleep in the middle of the night. He’s groggy, confused, but reaches out to grab the phone anyway. Sobriety and addiction don’t have business hours. Sometimes he gets calls in the middle of the night when his sponsee’s need support. Helping other addicts in recovery is a commitment he takes very seriously. That and Max is ready pop with this kid and babies wait for no one either. “Hello?” he rumbles into the phone without looking at the caller ID. 

 

“Billy?” Steve sounds wrung out, his voice is shaking, breathing like he’s running a 10K uphill. “I’m sorry. I woke you up. I wasn’t thinking.” and then he sobs. Billy is up, out of his bed and pacing before Steve can say anything else “What’s wrong? Are you hurt? Something happen with Max? Where are you?” 

 

“Indiana,” Steve croaks on what might be a laugh. It’s hard to tell. “Max is fine. I’m so sorry, man. It’s stupid. I had a bad dream and I woke up alone and I’m scared. I was dialing your number before I thought it through.” Billy sits back down and takes a deep breath, then another, and again when he realizes that Steve is following along. After a few minutes of breathing together Billy slides back into his bed, pulls the covers up and whispers, “Tell me about it?”

 

He’s greedy, he can admit that. Steve went back to Indiana two weeks ago and while they’ve been texting a couple of times a day, just jokes and silly comments, Billy wants to keep hearing his voice, wants to actually talk to Steve, alone, without the herd of dipshits that follows them both. Steve sighs, “I don’t….Billy….do you remember what happened that May?”

 

And yeah, does Billy remember. Who could forget? “When they came for E-J?”

 

“Yeah,” Steve sounds like he deflated. Like Billy just acknowledging that it was a thing is enough to comfort him. Billy still remembers how terrified he was, how they almost lost Joyce and Hopper. He remembers following Steve, stupid, self sacrificing Steve into those tunnels. Not understanding, even now really, why Steve had gone alone. 

 

“I was dreaming I was back in tunnels,” Steve gasps. “Couldn’t get out, fell, hit my head. It’s stupid, it’s been twenty years and I still wake up a couple times a year sweating and screaming like I’m living it over again. Fuck!”

 

Billy hesitates to say anything, comforted by the darkness around him and hurting inside for how alone Steve sounds. “Why did you stay?” he offers. Steve huffs over the line and for a moment Billy’s not sure he’s going to answer. “Someone had to,” Steve finally offers. “What if it came back? What if it happened again? What if they reopened the lab and hurt another kid?”  
And there is this hot flash of anger about how hopeless Steve sounds, “So everyone else got to have a life but you?” Because _fuck_ that’s unfair. Steve deserves better. “I have a life,” Steve comments after what sounds like a tired and bitter laugh. “It’s just that most of it moved to California recently.” 

 

“It not a bad place to be,” Billy offers. Because he’s not sure yet what’s going on with them. Not even really one hundred percent sure he has a chance of anything happening. But if he does, Steve living in Indiana would be a problem. Billy can’t go back there. Hell, he’d black the state out on the map if he could. 

 

“I’m starting to think it might be more than a nice place to visit,” Steve whispers. “Billy...I’m lonely.” And God, how much did it cost Steve to say that to him. 

 

“Me too,” because it’s true, has been almost his whole life. “Sometimes I feel like I’m standing on the other side of the glass while everyone else is inside.” 

 

The silence stretches between them, something comforting, Billy relaxes back against his pillows and measures his breaths by Steve’s through the phone. “Can you sleep?” Billy asks after he notices Steve’s breathing getting slower. 

 

“I think so,” Steve answers and then yawns. Billy hears him shuffling around. “Stay with me?” Steve whispers. “Tell me something, anything so long as it’s not about The Upside Down.”

 

“Snuggle down,” Billy suggests “Imagine me there with you, I’d hold you if I could,” and fuck, he’s in so deep here. So stupid and too fast. But Steve’s not commenting, just hums as he gets settled. “So when I was in rehab I had this roommate named Maurice, they called him Sparky, he was like a ferret on crack all the time. Used wake me up at three in the morning to ask me what time it was. I nearly killed him. He used to smoke in the bathroom even though it was against the rules and one day lit the trashcan on fire and the whole place had to be evacuated. He’s standing there in his pajamas fanning the fucking trashcan when there’s a toilet, sink, and shower in the room that he could have used to put it out.” 

 

Billy talks until he hears Steve snoring. Hangs up the phone with a smile and pulls the spare pillow to his chest before going back to sleep. If he imagines himself in Indiana, holding onto Steve Harrington as he drifts off it’s ok. No one will know. 

*****

 

_Can we skype tonight?_ And so help him, Steve blushes just reading the text. Texting Billy he can do easy. Talking to Billy on the phone has been getting easier when they do it. But seeing him? Or, rather, having Billy see Steve? It causes all kinds of feelings that Steve sort of thinks he should be over with having by now. 

 

He’s a grown as man, not a teenage girl with a crush. But it’s time to man up. He’s scheduled to fly out on Thursday, Max is going to be induced Friday morning. It’s not like he’s not going to see Billy when he’s in California for the next however long he stays. Steve’s made a point of not buying round trip tickets. Dustin is in California, his niece is going to be in California, Lucas and Will are in California. Most of the rest of their motley crew lives in the south west. Steve’s been thinking of joining them there. Billy’s comment about him not having a life struck deep and brought up a lot of feelings that have made Steve take a long, hard, look at his choices. And if he’s being really honest with himself, Steve doesn’t like what he sees. 

 

_Sure. Skype instead of call at our normal time?_

 

He lets himself enjoy the flush of warmth he has when Billy sends back _Sure_ it okay for him to enjoy this. 

 

And it feels really good to having someone to look forward to. 

 

By the time Steve is logging into Skype he’s moved past enjoyment and into terror. He sighs as he waits for the call to come through, sad as it is….he’s getting older, and talking to someone through a video screen has never been something he enjoys. He wouldn’t have the damn thing loaded at all if it weren’t for Dustin and the publisher using it to communicate with him about ideas. That and honestly, Steve hasn’t been interested in anyone in what feels like forever, he’s off his game with Billy, really rusty at this whole flirting thing. 

 

“Hey,” Billy announces with a smile when they get connected. And Steve’s mind flashes _adorable, pretty eyes, want to touch him, and mine_ before Steve gets spooked by the last item in that list and snaps his focus back to Billy. “Hi! How was your day?” He’s a little surprised when Billy groans and reaches up to tug on his own hair. 

 

“Right to the point, huh?” Billy looks back at him through the screen and so help him Steve thinks his friend might be bashful? Shy even. But then Billy seems to shake it off and goes on with, “I talked to my sponsor and had a meeting with my therapist today. They….have politely insisted that I talk to you about some stuff before your trip.” 

 

“Okay…” Nerves, shoot up his neck and fire off in his brain. Steve’s suddenly overcome with a sense for foreboding. “Is it bad?” 

 

Billy erupts with laughter. “I don’t know. You’re going to have to tell me.” And then they sit there, looking at each other. 

 

Steve feels like screaming, the tension is horrible. He squirms in his chair and it’s like the movement jumpstarts Billy back into remembering that he’s the one that needs to say something. “I’m interested in you,” Billy blurts, eyes widening as he speaks. “Really interested, actually. Shit. They told me be to be clear. Not dance around shit with you. Look, Steve, I’ve been kind of infatuated with the idea of you for a really long time. And not in a creepy way or anything, I swear. It’s just...I don’t know. Anyway, I’m trying this thing called radical honesty. My therapist has me working on it because I’m so scared so much of the time.” Billy wipes his face with his hands, Steve can see them shaking. When Billy looks back at him through the camera there are tears in his eyes. “So, because I’m scared I keep my life simple, keep my circle small, try not to get attached or anything because shit happens and I don’t like feeling hurt or weak, or like I’m not good enough. And I feel that way a lot, have felt that way a lot most of my life, messages from my dad and all that therapeutic bullshit. So I’ve been informed I’m avoidant of people and things that I think I might actually be invested in. Like….you. Because I don’t want to be rejected and I’m scared of people, of you, _fuck this horrible,_ seeing...me.”

 

“You,” Steve says slowly. “You mean who you really are and not that cocky asshole facade you wore all the time in high school.” It’s more of a statement, not a question. But Billy nods, just the same. “Yeah, I just wanted to be safe, to feel like I had control. It...wasn’t helpful.” 

 

That makes sense to Steve. “What do you need from me?” He settles on asking. Steve has a ton of questions. He and Billy still don’t know each other well and Steve’s honest with himself enough to know that Billy’s not the only one who has intimacy issues. 

 

Billy blinks a few times. He stares at Steve intently like he’s trying to find something written on Steve’s face. “I want you to tell me you want me too.” Billy hesitates then, a look on his face that Steve thinks might be surprise. “I can’t believe I said that out loud. This radical honesty thing is bullshit. Jesus. Look, Steve, I have a lot of issues. I’m private and there are things I _have_ to do to stay sober and without my sobriety my life is nothing. So if you’re interested in….anything with me I need you to understand that. I have to go to meetings, my sponsee’s sometimes call at weird times. I can’t talk about what happens in my meetings or tell anyone else's story. I see a therapist and psychiatrist for PTSD. That manifests in my sometimes being paranoid, depressed, having panic attacks, and means I have to take my medication in order to stay stable while I keep working on myself. I have HEP C and I’m starting the treatment to hopefully cure me soon but it’s going to make me really sick and when I’m sick it’s harder for me to feel good about myself. I sometimes have to walk away during disagreements because I’m scared of being like my dad. I don’t know how to have a healthy relationship and anyone I partner up with would have to go to therapy with me if needed because I don’t express myself well sometimes without help.” There’s another moment of silence where Billy chews his lips. Then he looks at Steve and takes a deep breath before saying, “I want you to want me even though I’m going to be a lot of work. I’m hoping that maybe you feel that electricity I feel when we’re together. I know we didn’t have a lot of time before you went home but I felt it. I think there’s potential here for us to be really good together and I needed to tell you in case you came back here and I’m not what you want because, I try hard to be what the important people in my life want me to be even if it hurts me sometimes. So. Yeah.”

 

The look he levels Steve with spreads warmth all over Steve’s body. He presses his hand to his chest because it’s suddenly hard to breathe. He can feel the moisture welling up in his eyes. Billy’s confession hits a place deep inside Steve where feels lost and insecure. “I feel it,” he manages to choke out before stopping to heave another breath into his super tight lungs. “I haven’t had a real relationship in….ever. Honestly, I haven’t been on a date or even interested in someone in almost a decade. Dustin teases me about it non-stop. But, the things we’ve seen and survived, I can’t be honest with people outside of our family about those things so I always feel like I’m hiding or being fake. And I hate that, I hate...bullshit. Nancy...she just went along with our relationship for so long in highschool and then she got drunk one night and told me everything we had been doing, this whole future I thought we were building together, she called it bullshit and I have never forgotten that. I don’t want a relationship with _anyone_ built on bullshit.” And it’s sad how much that moment defined Steve’s life. His relationships. He never let go of that message. You can be as invested as you want to be where you are but if the other person isn’t then it’s not going to work and Steve’s never been interested in making it work if the base of his relationships was lies. 

 

“So yeah,” Steve adds after a moment. “I appreciate this radical honesty thing. It makes me feel...more secure I guess. So look, I’m bad at this too but you’ve been so open I feel like it wouldn’t be fair for me not to do the same. You make me nervous, and nervous like I’m back in highschool. I blush and have butterflies in my stomach, it’s so stupid. I...don’t know how good we’re going to be together, but I’m willing to go to your therapist if that’s what you need. It sure wouldn’t hurt me. I understand about the meetings and would never try and stop you from helping someone who needed you. I have anxiety disorder. I have to take medication sometimes if I have to be around a lot of people to help me be able to function. Sometimes I have bad days and it’s hard to leave the house. I like to talk about my feelings. I need to know where my partner is at inside to feel close to them. If we’re going to be together then you have to promise me you won’t sleep around. If you do, I’ll leave you. It’s not negotiable. And I work weird hours sometimes when the mood strikes me. Any questions?”

 

Billy erupts with laughter, Steve follows quickly behind and they both find themselves wiping their eyes. Billy leans in to the camera and says, “Just one. Will you let me take you out to dinner or something, just us, when you get here?” 

 

“Of course,” Steve chuckles. 

 

He goes to sleep that night still smiling.


	3. Chapter 3

_Last One is on the House Part 3_

 

Waiting for Steve to come down the ramp at the airport is an exercise in emotional control for Billy. He feels stupid holding a sign that Max had helped decorate with the words **KING STEVE** scrawled all over it. Billy had been hesitant about a sign at all and even more so when Dustin insisted it had to say those exact words. Their history on this topic is...uncomfortable at best, at worst Billy is seriously worried he’s about to offend his potential romantic partner. That being said, he’s oppositional enough to admit to himself that he kind of wants to know if Steve will still want him offensiveness and all. He takes a deep breath. His sponsor and his therapist are always pointing out to him when he tries to sabotage the good things in his life. Billy knows it’s a compulsion built on years of being abused but knowing things and changing things are different. By the time the plane starts unloading and people start trickling by him he’s sweating, fingers clenched around the sign, cheeks red and a headache starting behind his eyes. This was a bad idea, a terrible idea, he should have let one of the dipshits pick Steve up and just waited until Steve had time for him. Now there’s going to be all this fuss and Steve won’t think it’s funny and everyone will be upset. 

 

“Nice sign, Asshole,” Steve says dryly from where he’s stopped about a foot in front of Billy. And how did he get so close? How Did Billy miss his approach? Embarrassment floods Billy’s system. “I’m sorry!” He exclaims a little louder than he means to and great, now people are looking at them. “It’s stupid, I shouldn’t have done it, wasn’t my idea. Blame Dustin.” 

 

“I do,” Steve grins. “Totally. So...I’m freaking out here a little bit. Should we hug or is that not a thing you do?” And yeah, now that Billy’s paying attention, Steve’s shifting from foot to foot like Billy remembers him doing in high school. “I hug,” he answers quietly. “Hugging, yes. That’s a thing I want to do with you.” And he’s dropping the sign next to his feet and gathering Steve up, pulling the other man in close against him and burying his face into Steve’s neck before Steve can drop the bag he’s carrying. Steve makes a huff of laughter against Billy’s neck as he wraps his arms around him. “Better?” he asks and Billy is going to deny forever that he gets a little teary eyed about that. “Better,” he agrees before pulling in another breath and nuzzling further into Steve’s neck. “You smell good.” 

 

Steve erupts with laughter, pink cheeked and eyes dancing when he tugs on Billy’s hair enough to bring them eye to eye. “You too,” he whispers before pressing a kiss to Billy’s temple. It’s like everything resets. His headache is gone, Billy relaxes. They walk to the luggage pick up bumping shoulders and trading shy smiles. 

 

Steve has a shit ton of bags, Billy laughs when they pull the last one off the carousel. “You moving here without telling me?” 

 

“No,” Steve snorts. “Mrs. Henderson had gifts for me to bring to the new baby. I have work stuff and then I wasn’t sure exactly how long I was staying so I brought some stuff to keep me occupied at the hotel.” And yeah, Billy winces. “About the hotel…” 

 

Steve rolls his eyes before reaching up and tugging on his hair. “Dustin, right?” At Billy’s nod he adds “Do you at least have a second bedroom or are you sleeping on the couch? Because I would have totally paid for a hotel. Why can’t they just back off?” He sounds so frustrated. Part of Billy rolls into a ball and tries to slip away into the safety of his _I don’t give a shit facade._ “Look, I have a second bedroom. My roommate moved out two months ago and it’s been hell trying to find another. I’m drowning. Dustin said you were staying for probably like a month and suggested maybe you could just stay with me to offset my rent until you went back home or I found someone to move in. I thought he had talked to you about it and Max didn’t tell me until this morning that you had no idea. If you don’t want to do it I’ll drive you anywhere you want, just name the place.” 

 

They’re halfway through the parking lot to the car when Steve just...stops. They stand there, blinking at each other. Billy huffs out a long breath and realizes his voice has been getting higher and higher while he’s been talking. “I’m sorry,” he murmurs, reaching up to wipe a hand down his face. “I’m nervous and I want you to feel good about being here. I fuck shit up for myself when I’m scared of things going well. Sometimes I see it coming and the truth is I’m mad at Dustin for setting us both up like this. I would love to have you at my place and not just to have some help with the rent for a little bit. But it’s your choice and I’ll support any decision you make. Shit.” 

 

He’s reaching up to tug on his curls again when Steve reaches out, captures his hand and tangles their fingers together. “I don’t know which car is yours,” Steve smiles and so help him, Billy can’t help but smile back. “I’ll tell Dustin to back the fuck off and I would love to come home with you. I’m nervous too. This is...huge for me, Billy. I’m invested in you, in us, I guess. It’s not because I don’t want to stay with you. It’s just that I’m always worried about being in the way. So, I’m going to need you to be patient with me because it takes me a while to settle in anywhere. I’ve never really found my place.”

 

Billy turns away and starts dragging Steve and his ton of baggage toward the car. He works up what’s left of his bravado and announces with a confidence he doesn’t really feel “That’s because your place is with me.” 

 

Then he says a silent prayer that he’s right.

 

*****

“So what exactly do you do?” Billy asks when Steve starts pulling a laptop and sketchbooks out of his carry on. Steve grins, he’s been looking forward to this. Dustin and Steve have been long time partners in crime, preferring to produce work under pseudonyms and maintain their privacy. Dustin had already warned him that Billy was unknowingly a collector of their work. Steve wanders over to the bookcase standing against the far wall of the living room. He runs his fingers over the spines of the graphic novels that have made a home there. 

 

“See these?” Steve questions as he pokes the books. “I do that. Well, me and Dustin.”

 

Billy’s look of confusion is priceless. “You’re a publisher or something?”

 

“No,” Steve shakes his head, crosses back over to his bags and pulls out another sketch book, he hesitates for a moment before handing it to Billy. This one is personal, but it’s Billy’s likeness inside. Drawn from memory, from Skype calls, from hopeful imagination. “Dustin does the writing, I do the art.” He shrugs, feeling awkward, waiting for Billy to process it through. Steve watches as the other man flips the pages, fingers hesitant and reverent as they trace over the art. 

 

“You’re fucking kidding me,” Billy breathes. “I love you guys. I collect everything you have ever put out. There’s no way.” Steve beams with pride when Billy looks up and breaks into a smile. “Oh my God,” Billy whispers. “You just keep getting better.” They stand there smiling at each other for a long time before it occurs to Steve to ask, “What do you do?”

 

And it’s odd that Steve’s never thought of that before. 

 

“I’m a recovery coach,” Billy answers and at Steve’s lost look he adds “I help addicts who are new to sobriety get into treatment and make connections in the recovery community.” And he looks so humble, like it’s no big deal. Steve tugs the sketchbook out of Billy’s hands and leans in to press a kiss against the other man’s cheek. He holds there, enjoying the closeness, the connection blossoming between them. He feels more than hears the hitch in Billy’s breathing before the other man turns his head just slightly and drags their dry lips together in a slow caress. Steve jolts at the hot splash of pleasure that shoots up his spine. He’s grabbing a hold of Billy’s hair to hold him steady and pressing in to kiss him deeply, passionately before he really thinks about it. Billy lets out a groan that makes Steve ache, pants suddenly tight, palms sweaty, heart racing. He tastes so good, coffee with something like cinnamon, Steve licks his way inside with a whine as Billy starts manhandling him across the room.

 

They tumble onto the couch, Steve sitting and Billy straddling his lap. Their breathing is ragged, Steve can feel Billy trembling. He bites at Billy’s jaw, his neck, hands sliding over Billy’s t-shirt covered chest to brush Billy’s nipples. Steve lets out a throating chuckle at the way Billy’s hips jack knife into Steve when his fingers pluck at his chest. “Fuck!” Billy gasps as he rocks against Steve. It feels so good, been so long since Steve has had this kind of contact. He moans when Billy tugs his head back by his hair and gasps when Billy dives right for the hot spot on the side of his neck, Billy bites down with the perfect amount of pressure and Steve moans, precome blurting into his underwear and jesus…”I’d have come in my pants by now if I weren’t over forty,” he manages to get out. Billy snorts into the side of his neck. “Me too.”

 

The mood changes, things slow down. Steve’s not sure how they stay there, kissing languidly and learning the shape of each other’s bodies. Their clothes stay on, their fingers tangle together a few times and eventually they end up just rubbing their cheeks together as they smile. “I can’t go any further than this right now,” Billy finally whispers. His cheeks turning pink. At Steve’s raised eyebrow he sighs, slides off of Steve’s lap to sit beside him on the couch, knees pulled up toward his chest. “I mix up sex and intimacy,” Billy offers. “Emotional intimacy, I mean. I need time to build intimacy before having sex. At least, that’s what the therapist says.” Steve grins as Billy rolls his eyes. “I feel like I’m good at sex and bad at feelings so when I want to show someone how much they mean to me or I want to feel secure about my relationships I use sex as a crutch. But it’s not real and honestly, Steve...I just don’t want to fuck this up.”

 

“Neither do I,” Steve comments before tugging on Billy’s pants legs until the other man unwinds. Then he shoves himself up the couch until he’s basically resting beside and sort of on top of Billy. “Intimacy and I are barely related.” Steve huffs. “My parents didn’t have it with each other or me and I never felt like I could get it in my relationships because I had to keep lying about crap from when we were kids. Sex was easy, being open is hard. I… _want_ you. Not just your body, but I want what makes you tick, what makes you laugh and cry, I want to be there when you need comfort and honestly, I want you to be the person I turn to when I need it too. Can we maybe work on that part together?” 

 

Billy shifts beneath him, tugging on Steve until their position is altered enough that Billy can wrap his arms around him, Steve’s head resting on Billy’s chest. “Hell, yes,” Billy agrees as he run his fingers through Steve’s hair. “Thank you for understanding.” Steve drifts for a while like that, safe and held in the arms of someone he trusts. “We can do for each other and keep the kisses though, right?” he blurts right before he drifts off to sleep. Billy’s laugh feels warm and right under his cheek. “Like I could resist,” Billy murmurs. They settle again. Steve struggling against sleep, wanting to absorb every minute. “Rest,” Billy whispers. “I’m here.” 

 

And Steve finally lets go. 

 

*****

Billy’s scarred. 

 

Not like..emotionally. Though that’s true too. But for some reason it’s easier for him to be honest about those emotional injuries than it is for him to allow access to his body for someone to witness the physical ones. 

 

Honestly, nobody has ever really cared about the him enough to be put off by the burn mark he has on his shin or the surgical scar on his knee. The cigarette burns from an abusive boyfriend, the long and jagged scar on his side from where he was stabbed. That bullet wound on his back where he got shot robbing a convenience store for drug money. So he doesn’t worry about those so much. It’s the other ones. The ones from that day in the tunnels under the lab that worry him. He’s just not sure what to tell Steve. 

 

They don’t talk about it. It’s not really a big thing all these years later. Steve has his own set of scars from that day and Billy has seen them, knew they existed from all the way back in high school. Steve had been lucky to get out of the tunnels alive. The thing is, Billy has always wondered why the hell he went in there by himself in the first place and a part of Billy, a big part if he’s being honest, has always thought that just maybe Steve had been trying to die that day. Maybe he went down there alone so he wouldn’t have to come back. And if that’s true….what’s going to happen when Steve sees his back and hip and figures out it was Billy who saved him? Is he going to be angry? Billy has always sucked at playing the “what if?” game. He’s relapsed before because of it, used it as a crutch to keep getting high when he was using, and said that was the reason he overdosed on purpose that one time. _What if?_ isn’t safe for him. 

 

But he hides his back anyway. Even though he knows Steve is eventually going to have to find out. But he’s selfish and just wants a few more make out sessions on the couch before he has to face the reality. Whatever that might be. He wears a bathrobe after his shower, sleeps in long sleeved pajamas at night, and tries his damnedest to keep Steve from sliding his hands up under his shirt in the back when they get a chance to cuddle. All it’s going to take is one pass over his bare skin and Steve is going to _KNOW_ what happened. It’s not exactly a pattern you forget. Stupid starfished shape plant mouth full of teeth everywhere. 

 

And it’s not like they have a lot of time to mess around right now. Billy has work, Steve has deadlines that he’s keeping track of for both him and Dustin since the baby came. She’s perfect, beautiful, and loud as hell, just like both her parents. That kid has some lungs on her. It’s been two weeks since she came into the world and Billy swears that Justine hasn’t quit screaming for more than five minutes since. And okay, that’s an exaggeration but _Hell_ his ears never quits ringing and he’s deaf in one ear. 

 

They’ve crawled back to his apartment after giving Max and Dustin their first night out in a long time. Sure it was just dinner and movie but taking care of an infant makes Billy feel like he’s one hundred years old. They headed straight to their own rooms and Billy had fallen asleep immediately. He can’t imagine Steve was far behind. The guy was dead on his feet when they started babysitting and almost in a coma on the way home. Billy wakes up around four in the morning to the sensation of drowning. He jerks up in his bed and realizes it’s just the stupid shirt he was wearing getting tangled with the blankets and yanks the damn thing off over his head before falling back to the mattress with a huff. He’s trying to get back to sleep when he hears the thumping through the wall that separates their rooms. Then he hears Steve make what can only be a choked off scream and Billy is up and heading down the short hallway to Steve’s door as fast as he can. He’s reaching for the door knob when the door is suddenly yanked open and Steve plows into his body at lightning speed. 

 

“Billy!” Steve yelps as they smack into each other and end up in a pile on the floor. Steve’s breathing is ragged and he’s wet to the touch from sweat. Billy wraps his arms around him anyway as Steve collapses against his body like his strings were cut. “I had a nightmare,” Steve whispers into his chest. “I woke up confused. Didn’t know where I was.”

 

“It’s okay,” Billy whispers back as he tangles his fingers in Steve’s bed head. “You’re safe. I’m here.” He feels more than sees Steve nod. Billy pushes his foot against the floorboard to scoot them closer to the wall. Sure, there’s a couch down the hallway and a bed in both their rooms, but Steve doesn’t seem inclined to move right now and that’s just fine with him. “Want to tell me about it?”

 

There’s silence and then quietly Steve murmurs, “I had that dream about the tunnels again. I was lost down there and it was after me. I was crying but I had a job to do. I had to stop them. But I couldn’t remember which way to go, what I was supposed to be doing, I messed everything up and people were going to die. I rounded a corner looking for the way out and it grabbed me, I hit my head. It hurt so much.” Billy listens, Steve’s dream isn’t accurate, might be a manifestation of his feelings of inadequacy or some shit like that. Whatever the reason, that’s not what happened and in Billy’s sleep addled brain his mouth goes on autopilot and tells Steve exactly that. “You know that’s not what happened, right?” 

 

And _SHIT!_

 

Steve stiffens in his arms and Billy forces himself to let go and allow the other man to sit up. There’s just enough light from the living room for him to see Steve’s eyes glitter in the dark. “How do you know that, Billy?” And there’s this tone about the way he says it, like there’s a nail encrusted bat at the end of this conversation with Billy’s name on it. He swallows, “Because I was there. I...followed you.” Steve’s cheeks are wet, his eyes glistening. He’s beautiful and Billy’s heart is a giant ball of fear. But all Steve says is, “Tell me.” 

 

Everything comes out in a rush. “I was awake at the cabin. Outside smoking when you left. I didn’t understand why you were leaving, you never left those kids alone. It was weird. So I followed you. To Hawkins lab, into the tunnels, you were never lost down there. You knew where you were going, you knew what you were going to do. Jesus, Steve, how did you even know how to make a pipe bomb? It came out of nowhere when it grabbed you. I didn’t see it fast enough to stop it but when you hit your head and went down I took your bat and beat the damn thing to death. You wouldn’t wake up. I was scared you were dead. I set the bomb for you. Carried you out. Joyce took you to the hospital.”

 

“Carried me out,” Steve repeats slowly. “I...remember. There was so much blood. I was being carried and my hands and face were covered with blood. It hurt you.” Billy doesn’t respond. It wasn’t a question. Steve holds up both his hands looking at his palms like he’s expecting to see blood there. Then levels Billy with a glare and says “Show me.” Billy bites his lip but nods. Steve gets to his feet and gives Billy a hand up, turning to head back into the bedroom and flicking on the light beside the bed. Billy follows shutting the door behind them like there’s someone else in the apartment. It’s stupid, but he’s scared for some reason and having the space be smaller makes him feel more secure. He can’t seem to turn around though and instead leans forward to press his face against the old wood of the door. He flinches at the first brush of Steve’s fingers over the starfish shaped scar on his back and side but then exhales what feels like years of anxiety when Steve traces the damaged flesh and whispers, “Thank you, Billy. Thank you for saving me.” 

 

Relief, so bright and intense flows over him so fast that Billy sobs. “Why were you down there by yourself? What were you thinking? Were you trying to get yourself killed?” The simple “Yes.” That Steve gives him as an answer is somehow as shocking as it is expected. “I wasn’t exactly _planning_ to die down there,” Steve continues as his palm presses into Billy’s back and smooths over the damaged skin there. “But if I had, and I knew there was a good chance of that, I wouldn’t have cared.” 

 

“I would have,” Billy whispers as he wipes at his face, stupid eyes won’t quit leaking tears. “I would have cared more than you could have ever known.” He gasps as Steve’s palms slide around his sides, just under his ribs until the warmth of his arms surrounds Billy as Steve rubs his cheek and forehead against his back. “I think I’m starting to get the idea,” Steve whispers. “I just felt so alone. Even with all of them around me. I felt out of place. I didn’t feel like I had a future and I thought they wouldn’t miss me for long. I didn’t have a plan for my life and it seemed so overwhelming. Nothing turned out the way I thought it was going to. It sounds so stupid now. But back then, every day felt like a struggle.” There’s a long pause where they breath together and Billy relaxes into the slow drag of dry lips across his spine. “Thank you, Billy,” Steve whispers again. “Thank you for my life. Thank you for being a part of it now. A huge part of it.” He snorts as Steve yawns suddenly before chuckling. “I’m exhausted,” Steve whispers as he slowly slips away from Billy. “You need to move so I can open the door, go to your room, and put us both back to bed.” 

 

It takes Billy a second to process, but when it does he can’t help but smile. Steve drags a blanket from the other room with them and true to his word he all but tucks Billy into one side of the bed before snuggling in beside him and pulling him close. 

 

This time, neither of them dream.


	4. Chapter 4

_Last One is on the House Part 4_

 

Billy’s been looking for a roommate. 

 

It makes sense. Steve rationalizes even as it rubs him the wrong way. Steve’s supposed to be flying home in another week. Never mind that he has yet to buy a ticket. Ignore the fact the that the mere _idea_ of going back to Hawkins to his empty house and empty life is unbearable. He hasn’t exactly discussed his emotional pain with Billy. Steve’s not entirely sure why. But he feels like ripping up the phone numbers of possible roommates on the table, deleting the online ad, and Hell, burning the bed in the spare bedroom. But how do you tell a grown man that you’ve decided not just to move to the city he’s living in, but into his very apartment, and add on to the top of that into his bedroom, with him. That second bedroom would make a great office. 

 

A really great office. 

 

But this isn’t Steve’s home. It’s Billy’s and they’ve been great together the whole time Steve’s been here. Until the last two days. Billy’s been different, like he’s suddenly uncomfortable with Steve being there. They argued for the first time last night and Billy ended up sleeping on the couch. It hurt. Steve’s confused, and even though it took him all night to figure it out Steve’s pretty sure Billy is too. 

 

“Can we talk?” Steve asks when Billy comes home that night. He’s hesitant, they haven’t seen each other since last night and Billy looks…..Billy looks terrible. 

 

Billy takes a deep breath, then another one. Steve’s concerned. Billy’s hands are shaking, “Steve,” Billy chokes out as his eyes tear up and spill over. “Will you hold me? I’ve had a really shitty day.” And Steve has no idea how much it costs Billy to ask him for that; but Steve is across the room and gathering him up as soon as it’s processed. He takes Billy’s hand and drags him to the bedroom sitting Billy down on the edge of the bed and tugging off his shoes before pushing him back and wrapping himself as tightly around Billy that he can. “What’s wrong?” he murmurs into Billy’s hair. 

 

“I lost someone today,” Billy gasps out as he weeps. “I can’t tell you everything, it’s work and my community has rules about anonymity, They overdosed and EMS didn’t get there in time. So stupid. I’m just so angry at them and the whole system and this fucked up disease. Now there are these kids that don’t have a mother. I used to think I would get used to it. But I haven’t and I don’t think I’m going to. It hurts every time.” 

 

Steve doesn’t know what to say. He’s lost people, his parents, some friends. Hell, if he’s honest he cried the last time he had to draw the death of one of his characters. He’s a softy and always has been. His eyes tear up while Billy snuffles against his chest and Steve murmurs “I’m so sorry. I know that’s not enough and I can’t imagine how you feel, but I’m here. You’re not alone.” _I love you_ whispers through his mind but he manages to stop it before it slips out his mouth. He’s still not sure how Billy feels about him and with him planning to leave next week it doesn’t feel fair. 

 

Billy clings to him for a long time, Steve runs his fingers through the other man’s hair and presses kisses to his forehead and the top of Billy’s head. Their legs tangle together and it feels like the world is very far away and time stops and Steve is so grateful for that because so much of his life and his time has felt too fast and too big. Billy suddenly speaks into the stillness, “Stay here with me,” he says and Steve feels his heart stop. “Don’t go back. I’m sorry for pushing you away, I’ve been an ass these last few days and last night I was on the couch so lonely and feeling so stupid. Steve, I want you here with me. I don’t want a roommate. Live here with me in this room and we can turn the other room into an office or some shit. I don’t care. I just want to keep you. I… _fuck,_ I swore I wasn’t going to pussy out on this part. I love you. I love you and you should stay with me.” His fingers have clung into Steve’s side and Billy is shaking, trembling, in Steve’s arms. 

 

He can’t hide his smile when Billy finally looks up into his eyes. Steve feels like singing or some stupid shit like that. Joy, hot and bright inside his chest blossoms and spreads outward to his fingertips that he drags across Billy’s worried frown. “I was going to say the same thing to you. I love you. I don’t want to go back. I never bought a ticket and I hate those numbers on the table. You’re with me, mine, and I’m planning on keeping you if you want to be kept. Is that okay?”

 

Billy smiles like Steve hung the moon and rolls them over until they fall off the edge of the bed into a heap on the cold wooden floor. Steve hums his appreciation for the slow, delightful kisses they trade once they get there. Presses another kiss to Billy’s cheek when they part and whispers, “How can I help you?” Billy closes his eyes and a solitary tear rolls down he cheek to drip onto Steve’s shirt and get soaked up in the cotton. “Stay,” Billy whispers. “Sometimes I just want to be held.”

 

And so, Steve does.

 

*****

Billy’s going to scream if Steve doesn’t stop torturing him. 

 

Well, he’s probably going to scream either way but honestly, he’s hoping for a “This is a really great orgasm” scream as opposed to a “I was just teasing your nipples for what felt like a half hour but I didn’t really mean it” scream. Jesus, Steve’s mouth was made for sin. He’s got Billy pinned in against the back of the couch with his shirt having long since been yanked off and tossed away to parts unknown. Billy’s heaving in breaths like he’s been running a marathon and Steve’s hair is so messed up he’s not sure they will ever be able to fix it again. Steve’s thigh pressed up high and tight against Billy’s aching dick and he can barely get any friction at all from the position but the heat from Steve’s body is making Billy leak precome like someone is already pressing on his prostate. _fuck!_ a couple more licks from that tongue and Billy’s going to cum in his pants. “Please, baby. _Please,_ I’m begging. You win. Anything you want, you’ve got it. I can’t. Steve.”

 

He whines when Steve pulls back with one last lick and forces his eyes open before Steve cups the front of his pants over his swollen cock and growls out “I want to fuck you. Can I? Will you let me?” Let him? Shit, Billy would beg him. 

 

“Bedroom,” Billy groans as he shoves at Steve’s chest. “Now. Too old to be fucking on the couch our first time. Need lube, need condoms. Now, NOW!” Steve barks out a laugh as Billy shoves him onto the floor and trips over him in their haste to get to the bedroom. Billy’s yanking down the comforter onto the floor and digging out the condom and lube by the time Steve manages to pull himself up and follow behind his lover. “I need you,” Billy announces as he shimmies out of his skin tight jeans. “Come on, Steve,” Billy orders when he turns around and sees Steve just leaning against the door frame watching him. “I’m getting old here.” Steve huffs out a laugh as Billy reaches out and starts undressing him. 

 

As impatient as he might be, Billy slows down to appreciate every exposed piece of skin, every gasp his lover makes, every moment Steve shudders in pleasure against him. This is a gift, having Steve this close to him, making love to someone who loves him. “Steve,” he whispers as they stumble back toward the bed and the other man slides between his thighs. “I love you,” stupid and sappy. Things Billy used to swore he would never be. But for Steve, anything. 

 

“I love you, too,” Steve answers as he rubs a wet finger against Billy’s puckered hole. When did he get the lube? Billy’s so focused on Steve’s pleasure he’s almost surprised when Steve presses inside. Everything stops for a second as Billy gasps and stretches back against the bed. Jesus, this is finally happening. It feels like it’s taking forever, but it’s happening. “More,” Billy orders as he shifts his hips up to grind onto Steve’s finger. Steve snorts, “This is my show, I’m gonna run it.” But his forehead is sweaty and he’s biting at his lip like it’s hard to focus. Billy moans, mostly for show, he loves the way it eats at Steve’s control. “Bossy,” Steve snaps at him. But he’s smiling and then there’s two fingers pushing up inside him. Then three and so help him, Billy is a mess, he’s whining and panting, begging Steve to get inside him. 

 

When he hears the condom wrapper rustle Billy manage to gather enough of his wits to ask, “How do you want me?” But Steve is already crowding in close and leaning over Billy to press a hot, wet kiss to his mouth before murmuring, “Want to see you,” in a voice so tight Billy’s pretty sure they’re both going to come in less than a minute. Then Billy feels him press inside and stretch him open and _fuck_ it’s almost the best thing ever. Only paling in contrast to the sweet, enraptured look that Steve has on his face as they move together. Christ, Billy realizes, Steve is totally stupid in love with him and it’s perfect and it’s everything, and Billy is totally blindsided when he comes. It’s like a wave of warm white light washes over him and leaves him shaken and open as it goes. 

 

But he’s safe, Steve is there with him, holding him close, right where he’s supposed to be. 

 

*****

Steve’s out of his depth. Nurturing romantic relationships aren’t something he’s ever really been a part of. Sure, he’s seen them from the outside, watched the rugrats he loves from Hawkins grow up, fall in love, have kids of their own. Steve’s loved those kids, loves their kids. Loves Billy.

 

Loves Billy so damn much. 

 

But Billy’s sick. Billy’s sick as shit from the treatments used to hopefully cure his Hep C and Steve has no fucking idea how to make this better. 

 

“Quit wallowing in self loathing,” Billy groans weakly from his blanket fort on the couch. “I’m dying and I need a poptart.” Steve glares at his boyfriend’s waving fingers as Billy beacons him back from the kitchen. “You are _NOT_ dying.” But bring the poptarts Steve does. Drops them on the coffee table within grasping distance before ordering, “Do not get crumbs on the couch.” 

 

“Yes, Mom,” Billy groans with an eye roll before flopping over onto his side and stuffing tiny bits of sugared pastry between his lips with trembling fingers. Steve watches, unimpressed. “We both know you’re going to puke that up in ten minutes.” He snorts when Billy flips him the bird. 

 

He tries really hard later to not express how irritated he is as he holds Billy’s hair back as he pukes up breakfast. “I’m really not dying, right?” Billy gasps as he collapsed back against the wall across from the toilet. And he’s not, Steve’s sure he’s not, 100% sure, but he’s still nervous. Maybe Billy is too. “No, Billy,” Steve murmurs as he leans down to press a kiss against the top of Billy’s head. “We’re going to get through this together.” Billy leans into his legs and takes a shaky breath and then another and Steve’s shocked out of his own anxiety by the feeling of dampness on his knee. “What’s wrong?” He demands as he pulls Billy away from his leg to see tears rolling down his face. 

 

Billy closes his eyes and seems to force out between clenched teeth, “It feels like withdrawal. I’m sorry. I don’t want to freak you out. I knew it was going to be like this but I guess I thought I was over it or some shit. I’m really triggered, I’m dreaming about using, and I’m scared. My sponsor told me I needed to be clear with you about it but I don’t want you to think I’m going to use. I’m NOT going to do that. It’s just really stressful and distracting and miserable. I don’t want you to be upset with me.”

 

“Why would I be upset with you?” Steve’s lost. He threads his finger through Billy’s curls and gives them a gentle tug. 

 

“Because I feel so weak,” Billy reaches out and tangles their fingers together. Steve can’t help himself. He laughs and keeps right on smiling through Billy’s indignant look. “You’re the strongest fucking person I have ever met. Except for maybe EJ. What can I do?”

 

And so they end up cuddled in bed, Billy tucked in tight to Steve’s side while Steve ignores the dried bread crumbs from the toast Billy was finally able to keep down. Steve’s reading the outline of his and Dustin’s next comic, the one the editors haven’t greenlit yet, to Billy who is utterly enthralled. Billy’s asking what the characters might look like. Gushing over the possibilities for the stories hero. But Steve already knows how that’s going to turn out, even if he refuses to share it. 

Their main character has a sweet smile, unruly blonde curls, and beautiful eyes that hide a lifetime of pain that he’s worked hard to transform into success. He looks like Billy. And Steve can’t think of anything better than that. 

 

He’s just keeping his mouth shut so his soon to be husband doesn’t get more of a swollen head. 

 

He should tell Billy about the rings soon too. He’d initially thought about proposing after the treatments were finished, but Steve’s learning that there’s never a perfect time for anything and you have to make your happiness when and where you can.


End file.
